Masquerade
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Prentiss runs into the BAU team when Lauren Reynolds is abducted by a serial killer. Prentiss/Doyle. Prentiss/Morgan/Elle friendship.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I'm sorry I've been MIA so long, but 2013 started out as really busy, and then became really miserable. Needless to say, I lacked the time and then motivation to write fanfiction. Motivation is a bit better now, but time is still limited, so though I'm aiming at updating on a weekly basis, I can't guarantee any regularity with updates. That all said, please enjoy this chapter, thank you for reading, and reviews are always appreciated._

* * *

_And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade. - Alexander Pope_

Emily wiggled around, and then winced at the throbbing in her head. The goose egg he'd given her was sore as hell, and making her a bit dizzy. The right side of her face throbbed with pain, and felt warm and swollen. That didn't mean that she was about to give up or give in. No, not when some psycho had kidnapped her, tied her up, and locked her in a closet. Even if his semen was still on her top and in her hair.

She'd been walking down an alley between shops when he'd snatched her. It was maybe a stupid thing to do, but it was daylight, and more importantly Emily was highly trained by the CIA. She also should have had one of her team members tailing her. But her attacker had come up behind her so quickly, slammed something hard into her skull, and Emily had barely been aware that she was about to be kidnapped.

Correction, Lauren was kidnapped. Lauren was on a short business-vacation to the states with Ian and Declan. Lauren had left alone to go on a short shopping expedition to pick up surprises for her boys: a few pieces of lingerie to wear for Ian, and a set of children's books for Declan. He loved to read, and he loved it when she read to him. Emily was really looking forward to giving him those books, but now they lay abandoned in some alley.

Emily shifted again, her shoulder bumping the back of the closet. At least she assumed it was the back and a closet. He'd thrust a bag over her head before shoving her in there, but not before shoving a gag in her mouth. Her wrists and ankles were bound with what she'd guessed to be wire, and even with the plastic covering they still cut into her skin. Her arms were bound to her sides with a belt, strapped impossibly tight around her forearms, just below her elbows. She'd put up a fight earlier, and though he'd seemed to enjoy punishing her, he seemed reluctant to take any more chances with her.

Her stomach turned over and Emily breathed in and out her nose slowly to keep anything from coming up and suffocating her. She wondered if Ian had realized she was missing yet…though she had no idea what time it was or even if it was day or night.

She needed to find a way to get out of the closet before he came back. Or, she at least needed a way to defend herself when he did return. Emily knew that when her abductor did return, he would rape her, and this time he'd be more prepared for her resistance. But how the hell was she supposed to save herself when she couldn't move her arms or hands, when the gag kept her from screaming or talking her way out, and when there was a bag over her head preventing her from even seeing where he'd stashed her.

Footsteps.

Emily tensed and pushed her body as close to the wall as she could go. She didn't even know where the damn door was or in which direction. Her heart thudded in her chest as she listened to the steps. There was no way out of this, was there? She tried to stay calm, tried to remember what she'd learned in her torture training at the Farm. Shut off. Shut down. Remove yourself from the situation, mentally if you can't do it physically. But the steps were getting closer, and the sound of each was like gunfire going off inside her head. Emily closed her eyes and took deep, slow breaths in and out of her nose.

She could feel her heart rate creeping down, and continued the deep even breaths. Emily let herself be Lauren, and went to the safest place she could imagine. In the villa with Ian and Declan. She could have given herself a new cover, like Beth or Claire or Angie, and let that cover suffer the abuse, but Emily knew the divide wasn't that strong. No matter what name she gave herself, she was still Emily and Emily was the one who had to survive everything. But Lauren gave her a safe space. She breathed.

Then she heard a man's voice ring through the house, and it wasn't her abductor. She couldn't make out the word, but the sound wasn't familiar. Though her abductor hadn't been terribly chatty, his moans and grunts had given her plenty of information on the tone and tenor of his voice. Then another voice rang out. It was a different man, but this time she understood word and her pulse jumped up, destroying all her hard work at remaining calm. But it was okay, because with just from the one word from the mysterious man's lips, Emily knew she was safe.

_Clear. _

She shimmed forward, bending her legs and pulling herself forward, twisting along the floor, and began kicking her feet into the door. She tried her best to yell through the gag. The approaching footsteps quickened until suddenly the door creaked open. There was a beat of silence before her benefactor spoke.

"I'm FBI, you're safe now." It was a woman's voice, low and calm. "I'm going to take the bag off your head now."

Emily heard her slide her gun into her holster, and then felt the slightest pressure as the woman untied the strings on the bottom of the bag, and pulled it off of her head. She found herself face to face with a woman about her age with dark hair pulled into a ponytail, and soft brown eyes.

The woman turned behind her then and shouted. "Morgan! Hotch! Gideon! In here!" Then she looked back at Emily. "I'm going to remove the gag and then get your hands and feet okay?"

Emily nodded. When the FBI agent pulled the gag out, the fabric scrapped the back of throat, and caused her stomach to roll over. Emily tensed and leaned forward, trying not to vomit.

"It's okay, go ahead and throw-up if you need to."

"Elle." More footsteps, and the voice of the second man who had yelled. Emily looked up at him. Darker skin, but still pretty light for an African American man, enough that she guessed one of his parents was white. His dark eyes studied her with sympathy, and he offered her a smile that was probably meant to reassure her. Emily was just trying not to throw-up all over herself.

'Elle' was already working on the wires wrapped around her wrists and ankles. "Do we have paramedics here? She's got a nasty bump on the head, it bled too."

Emily opened her mouth to tell them that she didn't need a doctor, but instead was forced to turn quickly to the side, so the vomit erupting for her throat didn't get all over the nice FBI agent. Someone put hand on her shoulder, and drew her hair back. Emily heaved and trembled with it. She had always been a very violent vomitter. She'd have preferred a broken bone to throwing up.

After a minute, she said, "I'm okay."

It was the dark-skinned man holding her hair back. He let it go and stepped away, giving her the space she wanted.

Elle smiled at her. "I can't offer you any water, but I think I have some gum."

The dark-skinned man stopped his partner's hand before it could pull anything out of her pocket. He nodded to the white stains on Emily's shirt. "They'll need to swab her mouth for evidence."

"What? You think the stomach acid-laced puke didn't destroy his DNA?"

Emily was about to object that she did not have his DNA, but then realized that while there wouldn't be semen in her mouth, there would most certainly be blood. She sighed. "It's fine. He's right."

Two men joined them then, one with very dark hair and a permanent frown, and the other was older and already balding.

"Do you have a name? Family we could call?" The first man asked.

"Lauren Reynolds," she said. "And, I'm from out of town, just on vacation, so no, there's no family to call."

"Hell of a vacation," the dark-skinned man said.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Emily looked around for the first time, and saw what appeared to be a very homey little dwelling. It made her want to throw-up all over again. "Who did this to me?"

"A very bad man," the older man said.

Emily tried not to view it as condescending. "You're FBI, so I'm not his first." She searched the faces of her benefactors, and sighed. "You're all BAU, aren't you?"

All four of them frowned. The dark-haired man spoke. "Are you Bureau?"

"No. I uh, I just read a lot," she said, not entirely lying. She _did_ read a lot.

The older man inhaled. "Elle, Morgan, take Ms. Reynolds to the paramedics, and go to the hospital with her." He turned to her. "Ms. Reynolds, after the doctors clear you, these agents will bring you to our office so we can get your statement, alright?"

She nodded. "Did you guys catch this guy?"

"Not yet," the dark haired man answered. "But we will, and you're safe with Agent Greenway and Agent Morgan."

Agent Greenway helped to stand on her now freed feet, and she walked with the two younger agents through the house. "Um Agents, do you know what time it is?"

Morgan glanced at his watch. "11:15."

She momentarily felt relief that she'd only been missing for ten hours when she saw daylight through a window. It was morning, not night, which meant that she'd been missing for about 22 hours.

Ian must be freaking out.

* * *

Doyle paced through the house. He hadn't slept all night, he couldn't, not when Lauren hadn't come home. She'd been distracted yesterday, and seemed tired, but she would never not come home. He knew something had to be wrong, and he'd spent all night with images of her fate running through his head. Had one of his enemies come for her? God knew, he had enough people interested in hurting him. Lauren had her share too, he knew.

He wished he'd made her take security with her yesterday before she left for her shopping trip, but she had insisted that she would fine. She'd insisted that she'd draw far too much attention if she had two goons following her everywhere. He'd let her go, and now he was hating himself for it. Ian sighed and stared out the window in his study, willing her to appear on the street, shaken and tired, but safe and alive. As long as she was safe and alive, nothing else mattered.

Small footsteps alerted him that he wasn't alone. Ian turned to the doorway to find Declan standing there, looking rather shy. Ian waved to him. "Come over here, Declan."

The boy trotted over, and wrapped his arms around Ian's legs. He rested a hand on his son's golden curls, and sighed heavily. Declan looked up at him. "Where's Lauren?"

"She's not home yet."

"When is she coming home?"

He stroked Declan's head. "I don't know, son."

"But she is coming home?"

Ian looked down at the boy. "Aye, 'course she is, and soon. You go play, and before you know it, she'll be home."

Declan's eyes said he didn't really believe his father's reassurances, but he took them anyway, walking back out of the room as his father instructed. Ian felt for his son, Lauren was going to take him to a zoo today, a trip for just the two of them while Ian took care of some business. Lauren was always true to her word with Declan, and hadn't disappointed him yet.

He ran a hand over his head, and kept pacing until Liam appeared. Ian waved him into the study in the rented house, and knew without even asking that Liam did not have good news. "You didn't find her."

"No. We went around the shops she mentioned to you, showed her photo around a bit. A few recognized her from yesterday, but no one knew where she'd gone too. We did find the second rental though."

Ian's interest perked up. "Oh? Signs of a break-in? A struggle?"

Liam shook his head. "Car was locked, windows intact, no signs of anyone jimmyin' the locks. So, we combed the place. Tyler found something." He turned and waved a young man over.

He had a small clutch purse in one hand, and two shopping bags in another. "We checked the bag, it's Lauren's."

Ian took it. "I know, I had it made for her." He stuck a hand in, felt along the lining for the thin zipper hidden at the bottom of the bag, and slid it open. He pulled the small 22-caliber pistol from its hiding spot in the bottom of the purse.

"Guess she didn't get a chance to grab it," Liam said.

Ian let his head fall to his chest, and took deep breaths. He was not a man accustomed to panic, and he would not succumb to it now. "What're the bags?"

"Well, it looks like before she was taken, she went to a lingerie store and a book store." He handed them over.

Ian opened the first and found some children's books, for Declan he assumed, and the second, underneath a layer of tissue paper held some satin and lace garments. Any other time they'd excite him, but now they just made his stomach hurt. It was painfully clear that someone had abducted Lauren, had pulled her straight off the street without anyone else noticing. He breathed in and out slowly, and then turned to Liam, rage making him all the more determined to find Lauren's abductor and make him regret ever laying eyes on her.

"Talk to you contacts. Find out which of our enemies is in town."

"Do you think she's still alive?" Liam asked.

He grimaced. "She had better be."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and welcome back! They were all much appreciated. So a couple thing, the first of which is a made a slight edit to the first chapter to smooth the continuity with this chapter a bit, something I meant to do before posting it, but forgot until I was editing this chapter. Second, you will notice that Gideon does not get much dialogue. That will continue for the rest of the story, because I can't write Gideon worth a damn. I don't know what it is, but every time I try to write a line of his dialogue, all I get is Rossi. So, I will be limiting Gideon's dialogue in this story._

_Lastly, I'm looking for someone to design a book cover for an AU fic that I'm writing that is proving to be extremely work intensive. So, I'll trade someone a cover for a story. You design the cover, I'll write a story (10,000 words or shorter) based on a prompt, which you give me. So, if anyone is interested let me know (pm or in a review, either is fine)._

_Thanks for reading!_

* * *

It turned out that their victim had more than just a bump on the head. She had a fair amount of scrapes and bruises as well, though she was surprisingly calm for what she'd been through. Morgan wondered about the woman, who was currently being examined by a doctor while he and Elle waited outside the room. She'd been shaky sure, but she'd also been oddly level-headed. She hadn't cried and had taken all their requests and instructions with patient nods.

Morgan shook his head and turned to his partner. Elle had her phone out, her fingers flying over the keys as she texted someone.

"That a guy?" He asked.

Elle snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He didn't respond, just glanced down the hall, looking at nothing. Elle's typing abruptly stopped. He turned to find her looking at him. "What?"

"Right back at you. No comeback, Derek? Are you already losing your touch?"

"You wish." He grunted. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"This woman, something feels off about her." He paused and met his partner's eyes. "Nothing struck you as odd?"

Elle frowned. "I don't know. I think she's the calmest I've ever seen a civilian victim, but that's just the way some people cope."

"It's more than that." He shook his head. "She pegged us as BAU, Elle."

She scoffed. "So what, are you suggesting she's our unsub or something?"

"Of course not. But I don't think she's being truthful, I think she's leaving something out. Something big."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," he groaned. "I just know that something isn't right with her."

His partner rolled her eyes. "Derek, the woman was kidnapped and held prisoner in a closet, all while in a foreign city. Behavior is difficult to read at the best of times, but you know it's even harder when the subject is under stress. Plus, the poor woman probably has a concussion to top it off."

"So you're saying I'm reading her wrong?"

"I'm saying just hold off on your suspicions for a little while."

He shook his head. There was something here they were missing with this woman, something big. He could feel it in his gut, as sure as he'd ever felt any hunch. He dropped it though; it wasn't like they'd be able to come to a solution here and now. He'd just continue quietly observing Lauren Reynolds and hope that whatever she was hiding didn't blow up on all of them.

The door creaked open then, and both agents jumped to attention. One of the doctors, the neurologist, headed out, her movements quick and efficient as any ER doctor he'd ever seen. She looked from one to the other. "Ms. Reynolds has a concussion, but it's mild. I didn't detect any other problems."

"Can we take her back to get her statement then?"

"Uh, Dr. Faraday has another doctor on the way for a consult, so it might be a minute."

"Another doctor? What kind of doctor?" Elle asked impatiently.

"An OB-GYN."

Morgan frowned. "Why does she need to see an OB?"

She once again looked between the agents, pursing her lips. "You better ask Dr. Faraday, or Ms. Reynolds herself."

The doctor excused herself, and left them staring at each other. Elle inhaled. "Well, you may be right after all."

"Yeah, but what about?"

"You think the unsub moved up his schedule, raped her before the 24-hour mark?"

Morgan frowned and lifted his shoulders in a move that ended with him shaking his head. "No, if he had, we'd be waiting on a SANE nurse, not an OB."

She nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

The door opened again to reveal Dr. Faraday, a wiry young man with dark hair and a very soft voice, who nodded at both, and tried to walk away.

"Whoa Doc," Elle called. "Hold up a minute."

He stopped and turned back to them. "Agents?"

"Why does Ms. Reynolds need an OB consult?" Morgan asked.

"She's concerned about the effect of the stress and lack of the nutrition on the fetus. I thought is best to be safe rather than sorry."

"Fetus? She's pregnant?" Elle gaped.

Faraday went quiet, silently studying them. "I assumed Ms. Reynolds had informed you of that when you rescued her."

"No," Morgan said. "No, Ms. Reynolds definitely left that part out."

"Well, she says she's about six weeks along, but the OB will confirm that estimate. You can go in and speak with her until the OB-GYN gets here for the consult, if you like."

"Oh, we do like," Elle confirmed, and started to pull open the door.

"Thanks, Doc." Morgan nodded to him, and followed his partner inside.

Dressed in a gown with white sheets around her, Lauren Reynolds looked drawn and exhausted. Her dark, reddish brown hair was greasy and stringy against the pillow, and her eyes were almost subdued. She didn't smile when she saw them, she didn't react at all. She was actually quite beautiful, he realized, and he wondered at how gorgeous she must be with life lighting up her eyes.

"So, we hear congratulations are in order," Elle greeted her.

The other woman's mouth opened, but soon closed with a surrendering sigh. She didn't offer an explanation though.

"You could have told us," Elle said.

"I only recently found out myself, Agent Greenway, I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea yet. And I really don't feel like discussing it with people I just met, no offense."

"Is the father someone prominent?" Morgan asked. "Like a senator, diplomat, something like that?"

"No, nothing like that. Since this has nothing to do with your case, and no relevance to why I was abducted I'd be grateful if you'd leave it out of your reports," she said.

"Why do you want to hide this?" Elle pressed.

Her tone hardened. "Because I don't know if I'm going to have it, I don't know if I'm going to keep it if I do have it, and I'd really rather not discuss it with anyone or have it become part of any case file."

"Is he married?" Elle asked, her voice almost gentle.

"No, he's not married." Lauren shifted on the bed, eyes aimed at the sheets. "Keeping or even having it may not be the best thing to do under my current circumstances."

Morgan watched her speak. Her tone was still hard, but her eyes were soft and sad. This woman definitely had things going on in her life that she didn't want them to know about, and if she weren't so obviously the victim of a serial killer that might be a problem. But she was right. Her personal life had no bearing on their investigation, and it wasn't right to keep pestering her for information.

He inhaled. "We'll be outside whenever you're ready, Ms. Reynolds."

"Thank you, Agent Morgan." She nodded and bit her lip, and her voice made them both freeze as they started to leave. "Would you please call me Lauren?"

He tried not to show his surprise to the woman who was clearly hiding something that suddenly wanted to get personal.

She ran her tongue slowly over her top lip. "It will make you feel less like strangers, and I don't really want to be with strangers right now."

There it was the barest flicker of vulnerability. A flicker that said that she was scared and seeking comfort. Though it remained to be seen whether she was more afraid of the serial killer still on the loose or the secret she was hiding.

* * *

"So, Ms. Reynolds, can you please describe what you were doing before you were abducted?"

Emily nodded and inhaled. She was sitting in a conference room with all four people who'd rescued her, as well as a young blonde woman who was apparently the team media liaison, and a very young man that was a self-described genius. Derek and Elle, as they'd asked her to call them, had driven her straight to Quantico from the hospital after promising that her pregnancy wouldn't end up in their reports.

She had known she was pregnant for only about a week, but hadn't been able to deal with the possibility. It was just inconceivable. She'd even debated having the doctor check her out, but the maternal part of her that always came out when Declan was around screamed inside her head for reassurance that the baby was okay. It was fine, and her estimate was off, she was eight weeks along.

Emily had heard the baby's heart beat, and she desperately wished she hadn't. It made the whole thing far too real, and that was terrifying. Her body trembling and her throat tight, Emily had shaken her head when the doctor had offered her the a photo of the sonogram.

She shook away those thoughts now, and focused on the people in front of her. "Uh, I was out shopping. I like to go to locally-owned stores when I travel, so I was downtown looking around. I left the last store, and was headed back to where I'd parked the car. I was walking away from the tourists and pedestrian traffic. I decided to cut through an alley, and I could hear someone moving behind me, but only for seconds before he hit me in the head. I remember stumbling, and feeling dizzy. I didn't get a chance to fight back, I couldn't focus. I must have blacked out then, because I don't remember anything else until I woke up in that closet."

"And your shopping bags?" Agent Hotchner asked.

"Still in the alley as far as I know."

He nodded. "Do you remember where the alley was located?"

Emily bit her lip. "9th Street NW, over near H Street, I think."

"Can you give us a list of stores that you went into?" Agent Jareau asked, offering her a yellow legal pad and pen.

"Sure, I'll try to remember." She took the pen, and began scribbling down the names as she thought of them.

"Can you tell us about your time in the closet?" Agent Gideon asked, his voice soft.

"He only came in twice, the rest of the time I just sat or laid. Sometimes I slept, though I don't think much."

"Please describe those times when you saw him."

She cleared her throat. "The first time, he offered me water. He took off the bag first. I wouldn't take the water, I was afraid he drugged it or something. He threw it in my face, put the bag pack on my head and left. And the second time, he was naked. He took the bag off again, and this time he removed the gag. When I saw him I expected him to rape me, but instead, he pulled me up by my hair and pushed me against the wall. He rubbed himself along my backside until he got hard, and then he turned me around and pushed me to my knees. He grabbed me by my hair again, and tried to make me take his penis in my mouth. I refused at first, tried to push him away, and then he put the belt around my arms. So, I made like I was going to do it, and I…I bit down on one of his testicles, as hard as I could. He screamed and punched me in the face, and that seemed to really turn him on. He started slapping me and rubbed himself until he came. Then he tied my ankles together, put the gag back in my mouth and the bag on my head, and left me there."

"Did you see his face?" Gideon asked.

"Yes. He has light brown hair that's receding, blue eyes, and his teeth aren't straight. He was probably in his late thirties, early forties, and not tall, maybe 5'9"? He was more muscled than average, but not a body-builder, and less so than Agent Morgan. His face was thin, and his nose looked a bit too big for it." She didn't need to close her eyes to remember him, his face was imprinted into her brain.

Gideon pulled something out from under his pad, and set it in front of her. It was a photo array, six photos in all. "Is the man who abducted you in one of these pictures?"

Emily studied them, not used to being the one to judge a photo array. She froze when she found his face, and handed the array back, one finger settling one of the top center picture. "That's him."

They asked more questions over the next two hours, and Emily tried to answer everything patiently. She wanted to go home. She wanted to take a long, very hot shower, kiss and hug Declan, and curl up in bed with Ian spooning her. Emily hated herself for the last part, but she was in a constant struggle to hold herself together, and she just wanted some comfort. It wasn't like she could go to Clyde or Sean or Tsia, and as nice as they were, she didn't know this team of FBI agents well enough to allow them to comfort her. It had to be Ian.

He made her feel safe and loved. That's really what she wanted right now, to feel safe. She was well aware of the irony in seeking safety in a man dangerous enough to be the target of an Interpol investigation.

She yawned as Hotchner indicated that they'd come to an end. "Can I go home now?"

"We'd prefer if you didn't leave town just yet," he said.

"I meant back to my hotel."

Gideon smiled at her. "Actually, we're going to send you to a safe house until the man who abducted you is caught. Agent Morgan and Agent Greenway will stay with you tonight."

"You think he may try to come after me again?" Even as she asked it, Emily knew it was a possibility. The man who abducted her was certainly a sexual sadist, a narcissist and possibly a psychopath. He would perceive her rescue as an insult, as being beaten at his own game.

"We don't want to take any chances," he said. "But, if you give us your hotel information, we'll pick up your bags for you."

Emily felt her stomach begin to boil with anxiety. She wasn't staying at a hotel, but at a rental house with Ian. How the hell was she going to explain that?

"Ms. Reynolds?"

She had a realization. "Did you impound my rental?"

Agent Reid, the young genius nodded. "Yes, I spoke to MPD, they have it."

"I have a bag in there, my carry-on, it has everything I need, we can just grab that and I'll get the rest of my stuff after this is all over."

"You keep a carry-on in your rental?" Elle asked.

"Not usually, no. I got the rental from the airport, and I always take a carry-on with everything in case they loose my checked bag. I got to the hotel late, and didn't feel like dragging both inside, so it's still in the car." She waited, silently praying that they bought it.

"I should start doing that when I fly out to Chicago, you know how many times they've lost my stuff?" Morgan shook his head. Emily smiled.

"Alright, Elle, Morgan take Ms. Reynolds to the impound lot, and pick up her bag. Run by Garcia on your way out, and she'll give you the address for the safe house." Hotchner instructed, effectively dismissing them.

They left the conference room, and she followed the agents down the steps and through the glass doors of the BAU over to a hallway. Elle turned to look at her. "How're you doing Lauren?"

"Tired, and I'd really like to take a shower."

"Don't worry, we should be settled in the safe house in under two hours." The FBI agent offered her a reassuring smile.

"We should grab some dinner on the way there." Derek looked at her. "I bet it's been a while since you had anything to eat."

"Too long." Emily let a hand rest on her abdomen over her baby. She let her hand drop. She couldn't focus on that now.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay, guys. I wasn't home last weekend, and the week was busy. But here is the next chapter. Thank you for all the reviews on the previous ones and continuing to follow the story._

* * *

Emily walked through the safe house will her small carry-on, which was really just a duffel bag, slung over her shoulder, and followed Elle toward her designated bedroom. They'd arrived barely minutes ago, and she'd waited by the door while Derek and Elle had cleared the house. Then Derek had left to get them dinner. Elle stopped at a door, and pushed it open, gesturing her inside.

"Make yourself comfortable, this room is the master suite, so there's a bathroom attached if you want a shower. I'll come get you when Derek gets back with dinner."

"Thank you," Emily said, and made her way into the room. It was nothing glamorous, but it would be comfortable. She'd certainly stayed worse places on the CIA's dime. And Interpol's too. Hell, she and Clyde had actually spent one night hidden out in a ditch in Kazakhstan. After that, anything dry and warm was paradise.

The shower wasn't quite soothing, but it did help. It also gave her the privacy to cry. She could feel the scumbag's hands all over her, his penis rubbing against her buttock, the soft skin of it rubbing her face as he tried to shove it in her mouth. All of that was far worse than any of his physical assaults. Though she was glad he hadn't aimed those assaults at her stomach, which she would have been unable to protect with her hands tied.

That made her cry harder. She had been worried for her unborn child, and that frightened her. She was already attached to it, the child she created with Ian Doyle. Ian Doyle, the terrorist who's touch she yearned for after being abducted by a serial killer. A child that could never be, from a relationship that wasn't even real.

How had her life become a bad spy novel crossed with an even worse lifetime movie?

After climbing out of the shower, Emily promptly threw-up. Then she dressed in comfortable clothes, towel dried her hair, and walked back toward the main part of the house. She found Elle sitting on the sofa in the living room, her face creased in a vexed expression, a folded newspaper in one hand and a pen in the other.

Without looking up she asked. "Eight letter word, Original definition of Bastard. It might begin with a "b"."

Emily thought that over as she sunk into an armchair. "Baseborn," she said.

Elle penciled it in, surprise registering on her face moments before she looked up. "Seriously? Who uses words like that anymore?"

She shrugged. "Period novelists?"

The FBI agent tossed the paper and pen down on the coffee table. "I hate those things anyway."

"So, what's it like being in the FBI?" Emily asked, hoping to avoid silence.

"Depends on the day and who you're working with. I'm lucky, my team is great and very close. Most days it's good, and then there are some cases…it can be pretty hard."

She nodded. "Derek is your partner?"

"Yeah, not for very long, but one of the best I've ever had. He's a tease and a flirt, but it's all affectionate. He's a good guy, and he respects women." Elle suddenly held up a finger. "But he's a slob. Never go on a road trip with that man, the car becomes disgusting."

Emily chuckled. "I think that's a guy thing. Their mothers always cleaned up after them, so they don't really think about it."

"Yeah, but when your 35, and you've never been married, you should have learned to clean up after yourself."

She smiled. "Yes, I'd say that's reasonable."

The silence that followed didn't last long. "Your…" Elle gestured to her stomach. "Does he clean up after himself?"

"Actually, yes. I think he's more of a neat freak than me."

"Is he your boss?"

Emily snorted. "No, definitely not."

"That's the only other scenario that I could think of that would cause you so much stress." The agent's voice was soft, and her eyes held no judgment and no pressure.

She looked at the ground, and ran her tongue over her lips. She looked up at Elle and offered the simplest explanation that she could. "He's not a good man."

"But you still love him."

"Yeah…yeah, I do."

Elle slid over on the sofa, and reached for her hand. Emily accepted the comforting squeeze with a tired smile. They were both startled by the opening of the front door.

Elle held a hand out at Emily as she pulled her weapon from her holster and headed toward the kitchen. Emily was familiar with the drill and stayed put, happy that the conversation was ended. Even if she'd been able to explain her situation, she doubted Elle would be sympathetic. Hell, Emily wasn't even very sympathetic to her own situation. She'd screwed up in so very many ways she'd lost count.

"Well finally, what took you so damn long?" She heard Elle ask.

"I drove out of the city to get some authentic southern food." Emily smiled at Derek's buoyant tone.

"Did you go to Georgia to get it? And why southern food?"

"I went to Alexandria, thank you very much. And, because Lauren should have something healthy for the baby."

As Elle answered Emily began to make her way to the kitchen. "Seriously? You got authentic _deep fried_ southern food as something healthy?"

"Not everything southern is deep friend, Elle, and I figured this is as close to a home-cooked meal as she's going to get until we get this guy."

"Thank you, Derek. That was very thoughtful of you," she said, interrupting their bickering.

He stopped emptying bags and smiled at her. "You're very welcome." He turned toward Elle who was busy grabbing dishes. "At least _someone_ appreciates me."

The other woman sauntered over. "Oh, I appreciate you, Derek. I appreciate when you're not in my way."

His mouth fell open, and he turned to Emily. "Do you see the abuse I put up with?"

Emily was pretty sure part of their bickering was a show to put her at ease, but she smiled anyway. It reminded her of Clyde. They had a way of communicating and a chemistry not dissimilar to the pair of FBI agents. And he always had her back. If she couldn't have Ian, she'd have settled for Clyde, though she supposed she couldn't expect a hug from him. He wasn't really the hugging type. But then, neither was Emily – normally.

* * *

Morgan stretched out his shoulders, and plopped on the couch, jostling Elle and earning a scathing look. He grinned at her. His partner glared.

"Lauren tucked in for the night?" She asked, eyes back on her crossword puzzle.

He nodded. "Yeah, she seems okay. I told her to sleep as late as she wants tomorrow."

"She's going to need it, between being pregnant and being kidnapped it's amazing that she lasted as long as she did."

"You ever thought about it?" He asked.

She responded without looking up. "Thought about what?"

"Getting pregnant. Having kids."

Now she looked, eyes wide and mouth open. "Excuse me?"

Morgan held up his hands. "It's a legitimate and _innocent_ question."

"I don't know. Kids aren't really my thing. I've never been good with them. Why have you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I think it might be nice to come home to something other than Clooney, you know?"

She snorted. "How about you start with a steady girlfriend then, Casanova?"

"Because this job…it doesn't leave time for much else. And I don't want to ask a woman and kids to compete with that." Morgan's eyes drifted away, looking toward the wall instead of his partner.

They rarely talked like this. Elle had the temperament of a guy, and guys don't share their feelings, especially with other guys. Usually it's a woman pushing them to talk. Elle never pushed him to talk, because she herself wasn't much of a sharer.

"Hotch does. He and Haley are even trying to get pregnant."

"He told you that?"

"No. I walked by his office, and heard him ask someone when they were ovulating that month. I assumed he was talking to his wife." She gave him a pointed look.

Morgan ran a hand over his head. "I don't know…" He pulled on a sassy grin and wiggled his eyebrows. "I guess I just like being Casanova."

Elle rolled her eyes and kicked him in his shin.

"Ouch! Damn woman, why'd you do that?"

"That's for treating women like tissues."

"Hey now, you know I respect every lady I spend time with; I am very upfront about the temporary nature of the relationship."

"That's why it was a wussy kick. If you were a true player, I'd have aimed for your nuts." She nodded toward his crotch.

Morgan winced. "Remind me to wear a cup when I'm around you."

Elle opened her mouth, but an odd sound caused him to throw his arm out to silence her. He felt her immediately go on alert beside him, her body tense, hand down by her Glock. Morgan searched the house with his ears, trying to place the noise. He failed.

"You're sure it's not Lauren?" Elle whispered.

He heard it again, a soft clicking. Like a lock being turned. "Yeah. I'm sure."

* * *

Ian had tapped all of his contacts looking for Lauren, and the information had come in frustrating bits and confusing pieces. One of Liam's contacts had found her and said that Lauren was with police, more specifically FBI. Ian briefly entertained the idea that Lauren had staged the abduction and gone to the other side. But she wouldn't do that. Lauren would never betray him. Then he'd milked every contact he had that had an in with police, and found out that Lauren had been abducted by a man responsible for raping and killing several women, that those FBI agents had rescued her, saved her life. They were stashing her at a safe house until the bastard was caught. Liam had already sent out some men to track him down.

Lauren was alive and safe, but Ian Doyle wasn't about to wait for the justice system to take care of the animal, no he would do it himself. No one put their hands on Lauren and lived to talk about it. Not so long as there was breath in his body. And if the man raped her? Oh, Ian had a special treat for him if that proved to be the case.

But for now, his men moved like shadows around the perimeter of the safe house. A few positioned themselves at each exit, ready and waiting for his signal to move. They all carried guns in their hands, but were instructed not to use them. He didn't want the agents harmed. All he wanted was to get Lauren back into his arms.

He had called in every favor he was owed to find out the location of the FBI safe house. It wasn't easy, but Ian had long ago established a network of contacts within law enforcement in several countries. He was a practical man, and knew the best way to avoid law enforcement was to have them in his pocket. Today it had paid off in spades. Tonight, after 36 hours of worry gnawing at his gut, he'd get to see his Lauren, to hold her again, to feel the relief of knowing that she was safe and that he'd never allow her to be unprotected again.

"We're set," Liam's voice breathed into his earpiece.

Ian surveyed the men with him at the front door, earning a nod from each. "Go now."

They moved fluidly, breaking the lock easily and bursting through the door, each with their weapons drawn. The agents stood wide-eyed, only two of them, both with their weapons drawn and leveled at Ian and his men.

"Put down you're weapons, I've no wish to hurt you," Ian said.

The dark-skinned man shook his head, chin jutted out. "Sorry man, we can't do that."

"I'll ask again, agents, and then I'll make you. Put down your weapons. Please."

Neither agent moved. Ian shook his head in irritation and then nodded to Liam's crew, who'd approached from the other direction. He nodded at a few of his own as well. They quickly advanced on the agents, disarming them before they could fire. Not without a fight though, especially the man, who was quite angry.

Ian watched his men shove the black plastic pieces that looked almost like large cell phones into the agents' bodies. He saw first the woman's body jolt and her scream echo through the house. Then the man's body did the same, his ensuing yell filled with pain.

Footsteps caught his attention, and he looked toward the sound to find the most beautiful image he'd ever seen. Lauren was at the darkened landing above the stairs, looking down at them with wide eyes. She suddenly charged down, eyes hitting the fallen agents.

"Oh god, Ian tell me you didn't kill them!"

"Of course not, Love. They saved your life, they've earned theirs." He reached a hand out and pulled her close. She remained tense. "We only used tasers, Lauren."

She relaxed finally, allowing him to pull her close. He kissed her forehead and studied her face. The gash, the bruises and swelling, the exhaustion written into her eyes and the creases of her face. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to relax and focus on Lauren's needs, and she did not need his fury right now. "Come Love, I'm taking you home."

Suddenly Lauren leaned into him, her face in the bend of his neck, her warm breath whooshing out against his skin. "I missed you. I wanted to go home, but I didn't want to lead them to you. I didn't want them to ask questions."

"Shhh…" He cooed, pressing his lips to her head. She had protected him. Even with her own pain and suffering, she'd protected him. Ian loved her even more.

Ian led her out of the house to their SUVs, sending one of his men to grab her bag. He helped her inside the second SUV, and was pleased when she curled up against him. He could feel it in the way her body lay against his that all of her energy was spent. He imagined that it had been a while since she'd slept. More importantly, he could sense that she had not escaped her abduction unscathed. He tightened his arms around her, and made another silent promise that the bastard who took her would suffer.

When they reached the house they were renting, Ian took her bag and ushered her into the house and up the stairs. Still in her pajamas, Lauren just climbed into their bed, urging him to join with a hand gesture. He did as asked, shimming close to her, and allowing her to mold her body into his, her forehead against his chest.

"Lauren…I need to ask you something."

"Hmm?" She nuzzled closer to him.

Ian ran a hand over her head. "I need to know…did this man that took you…did he force himself on you?"

Her body went rigid instantly, and his heart caught in his throat. It was difficult to swallow around how intensely it was pounding. He tried not to tense, not to let Lauren feel the anger flooding through his body.

"He tried. He failed."

Ian could swallow again. He could breathe. A little smirk actually tugged at his lips. "Oh?"

She looked up at him, her eyes as intense as he'd ever seen them. "He tried to shove his cock in my mouth, so I bit one his testicles until he screamed."

"That's my girl," he said, pressing a kiss to her head. Her eyes fluttered, so he moved lower, allowing his lips to barely brush over the bruises on her face. Lauren sighed, but it was high-pitched and almost broken, like a whimper that was meant to be a sigh.

"Rest now, Love."

Lauren laid her head down again, and snuggled into him. Ian ran a hand over her curls until she fell asleep. He was well on his way to drifting off as well, at least until Liam appeared.

"Liam?"

"We found him."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you everyone for the reviews on the last chapter and favorites and follows!_

* * *

"Hotch, what the hell is going on?" Morgan demanded, fury pouring off of him. Hotch had only arrived at the scene minutes ago. His agents were sitting on the living room sofa, each grudgingly allowing a couple EMTs to check them over.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She was gone when you came to?"

Elle answered for him. "Yeah. I came to first, and ran upstairs to check on Lauren. She was already gone. Her bag too."

"I've got Garcia on the line." JJ appeared by his side, cell phone held up. "It's on speaker."

"Did you find anything on Lauren Reynolds?" He asked. He'd sent the tech digging for information on their rescued victim seconds after he'd gotten the call from Morgan that she was missing.

"Um, sort of. Is my beautiful hunk of chocolate fudge okay? And our newest teammate?"

"I'm fine, babygirl. So is Elle."

"What did you find, Garcia?" Hotch reminded.

"Well, I ran a search on the name Lauren Reynolds, and after sorting through who she definitely is not, I started to zero in on who she is. There was a problem though." The tech seemed anxious, which told Hotch that he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Just say it, Penelope," Morgan nearly growled.

"So, our girl seems to have a pretty lengthy criminal record. Or at least of a lengthy record of arrests. It looks like she was only prosecuted a few times, mostly when she was younger. Apparently, the very nice, polite, cooperative woman we met, well, she seems to have an alternate personality. And this personality, she likes guns. Lots of guns, a wide variety of guns, and quite a few very nasty and very, very big ones. I'm talking like military grade big and nasty here. And, from what I've found she likes to sell them to very bad people, at least that's the notes in her file."

"She's a weapons dealer?" Gideon asked.

"Yes, it seems so, but sir, that isn't the problem."

Hotch sighed and let his eyes slip shut, he could almost see Garcia cringing at her keyboard, a fuzzy, feathery, colorful pen clutched in her hand. "What else, Garcia?"

"Outside of her criminal record, I found some basic information on her. And, by basic I really mean basic. The problem is when I try to dig deeper, I hit a wall. And, when I checked Interpol, well um…you see I don't technically have permission to access their records. I mean I've done it before, and it's usually not a problem, and I've got a hacker buddy over there that…well, that's not important. The point is, I can usually get into their stuff without a fuss and without bells and whistles go off. But," the tech finally took a breath. "I accessed the file for one Lauren Reynolds, and well, big bells went off."

Hotch frowned. "Are you saying the system booted you off?"

"Not quite, sir. See this big scary flashing red screen of death appeared and it said that I don't have the security clearance required to access her file. Apparently, it's super-duper swear-a-blood-oath kind of top secret. And then the system must have realized that I wasn't allowed, because a really, really obnoxious gauge-your-ears-out buzzer sounded and a yellow screen appeared and told me I'd been naughty and that they had catalogued my IP address."

"Are you telling me to expect a phone call from Interpol?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "Sorry."

He sighed. "It's okay, Garcia. You clearly found out something we didn't know, and that we should have."

Gideon looked at him, his lips curved in amusement. "What are the odds of a serial killer targeting an arms dealer?"

Hotch had no answer. Reid piped up though. "I've never heard of it happening before, so I guess it would be one divided by the number of victims abducted by serial killers to date."

"What, you don't have a number for us, kid?" Morgan asked.

Reid frowned at that, his hand resting along one side of his face, fingers twitching about. "Actually no, I don't."

Morgan snorted. "Now what are the odds of _that_?"

Elle shook away her medic. "That still doesn't tell us who came in here, tasered us and took her."

"How many men did you say it was?" Gideon asked.

Morgan and Elle looked at each other, and he shrugged. "At least a dozen."

"That sounds like someone from her world. Her people, maybe?" Hotch said.

Elle shook her head. "No, she never contacted anyone, and she wasn't out of our presence except when she went to bed."

"And you were attacked after she went to bed."

"It doesn't feel right. She didn't plan on leaving tonight." Elle continued shaking her head.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed. "I didn't get the impression she was eager to go anywhere except to bed."

"Then who?" Hotch folded his arms over his chest.

"What if she was in town hiding from someone? Laying low." Elle suggested. "What if she was in trouble? That's why she was being evasive."

"She's an arms dealer, she has every reason in the world to be evasive," Gideon said.

She turned to Morgan. "I got the feeling she was in trouble, didn't you?"

He nodded hesitantly. "I did get that vibe, yeah."

Hotch held up a hand. "So you're suggesting that Lauren Reynolds, an arms dealer, came to DC to hide from someone, was abducted by a serial killer while in town, then was abducted again – this time from an FBI safe house – by the person she came to town to hide from."

Morgan looked at Elle and then nodded. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Hotch barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. After all, they could be right.

* * *

Emily blinked her eyes open, allowing them to slowly adjust to the diffused light shining through the curtains. The room wasn't dark by any means, but it wasn't bright either. It was comfortable, and gave her a minute to get her bearings before she rolled over toward Ian.

Or not Ian.

He was gone, she had no idea where or when, but he'd left someone in his place. Declan was curled up next to her, eyes closed and completely at peace. She smiled at the little boy, she'd missed him in the short time she was gone. He had his father's eyes and smile, but that seemed to be all he inherited from Ian. Declan was as sweet and loving as Ian was cold and ruthless. At least to others.

For Declan, he had warmth, as long as the boy didn't disappoint him.

For Lauren…it was like he was a completely different person. Tsia had some contact with Doyle on the periphery, and while she'd concede that he could be fair, he was far more often violent, angry and lustful over his own power. But that wasn't what Emily saw as Lauren.

Ian had grabbed her hard more than once during fights, but he had never held her very long though. And when he let go, it was quick, like he'd been burned. The one time he'd raised his hand at her, he'd instead shoved it through his wall. No, Ian was very careful with her and very affectionate. When she had come back from what she'd told him was a deal with a buyer, a bruise darkening the right side of her face, near her eye, Ian had nearly gone ballistic. He ranted and raved, and demanded to know who her buyer was so that he could kill the man. It had taken almost half an hour to calm him down. And a striptease.

It had been Clyde's idea to send her back with a visible, but minor injury to test Doyle's feelings for her. Tsia had been the one to hit her, after the guys had all refused to hit a woman, especially a friend. It had hurt like hell, and Emily had learned her friend had a nasty right cross.

Movement pulled her attention to her companion. Declan was stirring, shifting beside her, blinking his eyes awake. The little boy squinted, confusion settling in his eyes, and the downward turn to his mouth. He pushed himself up, and then turned toward her. When his eyes landed on her, they widened and he threw himself at her.

"Lauren!"

Emily smiled and accepted his exuberant hug. She pressed a kiss to the golden curls on top of his head, and let him cling to her like a monkey as long as he wanted. With Ian Doyle's son held tightly in her arms, Emily's thoughts drifted to his second child, cradled within her womb.

Ian would be overjoyed at the news of a baby. He would lavish affection on her, and treat her like a princess. He wanted a big family, he'd told her that several times, and seemed to completely disregard how impractical it was in his line of work. Hell, he had to hide Declan already. But it didn't matter, not to Ian.

Declan pulled away, pulling her out of her thoughts. His frown deepened and Emily had no idea why until he reached out an arm, and his chubby little hand came to rest on her bruised face. "You're hurt, Lauren."

She smiled. "Only a little, sweetie. I'm fine."

"Who hurt you?"

"A bad man. It's okay though, he can't hurt me anymore." At least she hoped. The BAU was supposed to be pretty elite, surely they were close to catching him.

"Didn't think you'd be awake yet, Love." They both turned and Emily smiled at Ian.

"Where did you get off to?" She asked.

"Taking care of some things."

"Papa, Lauren's hurt."

"I know, Declan. The man who did it won't be hurtin' her anymore." He looked up at her. "Or any others."

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Oh god, Ian. Tell me you didn't."

Ian raised a hand to cup her cheek. "I swore I'd not let anyone hurt you, Lauren. I keep my promises."

"Ian, that's very noble, but the FBI is going to come after you now!" How the hell did he even find a serial killer?

"By the time they've figured out who did it, we'll be back in Italy."

Emily bit her lip. A sizable, though manageable, problem for her undercover op had just turned into a massive catastrophe.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

"Can I help you?" Morgan stopped on his way back from the break room, fresh cup of coffee in his hands. Two men were standing inside the BAU, eyes scanning the area for something.

"We're looking for SSA Hotchner." The man had a thick British accent, and light brown hair. He was a couple inches shorter than Morgan, and less muscled, but fit, at least as far as the profiler could tell from a suit.

He cleared his throat. "Interpol?"

"Yeah, that'll be us," the other man answered. His accent was similar, definitely from the UK, but more gruff. Maybe Scottish, Morgan thought. He had darker hair, a trim beard and mustache, and a stockier build than his companion.

"We figured you guys would call, not show up. Isn't that a bit of a trip?" He waved them to follow him.

"We were in the neighborhood," the Brit said, not without a touch of sarcasm.

"Right," Morgan said, not believing a word. He looked at the pod of desks. "Reid, Elle. Conference room. Call Garcia and JJ, would you?"

"We making this a party then?" The Scot grumbled.

"Yeah, I'll make sure to throw on some salsa music." He led them up the stairs, and directed them to the conference room before knocking on Hotch and Gideon's doors.

When they were all settled and introductions had been made, Hotch took the lead. "A name that seems to be flagged in your system came up one of our investigations."

"That's why we're here. We need to ask you to cease your investigation into that name. I'm afraid we can't provide you any information otherwise." Clyde Easter, the Brit said.

Morgan scoffed, but shut up when Hotch shot him a look. Gideon addressed the two men in that soothing tone he had. "This woman, Lauren Reynolds, we believe she's in serious danger, and we'd only like to help her."

"What sort of danger?" Easter asked.

"Two days ago she was abducted by a serial killer that we've been chasing. Last night, a small army broke into the safe house my agents were keeping her in, tased them, and abducted Ms. Reynolds."

"I'm sorry, did you say serial killer?" Morgan could see the slightest change in Easter's body language; he seemed to tense instantly.

"Was she harmed?" Sean McAllister, the Scotsman asked. His body language was still completely neutral.

"Minor injuries," Hotch said, his eyes on Easter, clearly noticing the same thing Morgan had. "He bound and gagged her, struck her repeatedly, so there's bruising on her face, and attempted to force her to perform fellatio."

"What?" Easter's voice was almost breathy, and Morgan could actually see hands tightening in fists.

McAllister shot his companion a look. "He didn't rape her though?"

"No, as I said, her injuries were minor," Hotch answered.

The slightest traces of relief were evident in the Scotsman's face, and Easter seemed to be only just collecting himself, his hands still tight. It was then that it hit Morgan, like a freight train screaming through his brain.

"Shit," he cursed softly, he looked at their guests. "She's UC, isn't she?"

"Sorry, can't comment," McAllister said.

"Read us in then, so you can," Gideon said, not questioning Morgan's assessment for a minute.

"It's not that simple."

Easter turned to him and the two men engaged in a whispered conversation, which culminated in Easter nearly erupting. "Damn it Sean, she could have been killed!"

McAllister, who seemed to be in charge, sighed and finally nodded. He looked at them. "Give me ten minutes to make a phone call."

He disappeared then with his cell phone out, leaving them alone with a still rather stressed out Interpol agent.

"She's your partner," Gideon said.

Easter glanced over them, but avoided eye contact. "Yes."

"She was okay when we last saw her," Elle said.

He looked at Elle. "That was last night?"

"Yeah, she was in bed when the men broke in."

Easter shifted. "You were one of the agents guarding her?"

"Yeah, Derek and I were with her pretty much since we found her."

"The men who took her, did they speak to you at all?"

"The leader did," Morgan said.

Easter was entirely focused on them now. "Did he have an accent?"

"Oh yeah," Elle said. "He was definitely Irish."

Easter's relief was palpable, as he leaned back in his chair. Morgan raised an eyebrow. "That mean something to you?"

"Yes, agents. It means she's safe. He won't harm her."

The door opened then, and McAllister walked in, shutting his phone. He looked at his colleague. "Let's read them in then."

* * *

"We need to tell them, Derek." Elle was tucked away in a corner with her partner, her head still reeling from the information the Interpol agents gave them.

Undercover. 22-month operation. Former IRA captain turned terrorist. And Elle knew that he was the father of Lauren, or rather Emily's, baby. It was still very strange to think of her as Emily.

Emily Prentiss, a CIA operative loaned out to Interpol for the task force that Sean McAllister ran.

Hotch even knew her. Well, sort of knew her. He knew her mother. Elle was certain that was the first time she'd ever seen the man looked surprised.

"I don't know how I feel about breaking her confidence." He was struggling, more now that he'd learned the woman was a cop. He took that very seriously.

"Yeah, I don't like it either, but Derek, she does not belong in the field right now."

"She said she may not even keep the baby, and they've been working Doyle for almost two years. That is hard to throw away. Besides, if she wanted out, she'd have called for an extraction."

Elle shook her head. "Derek, listen to me, okay? When you were gone yesterday, we talked, she didn't tell me much, but enough to know that's she's compromised. They need to get her out, as soon as they can."

"Compromised? What do you mean?"

"That baby? It's Doyle's."

Morgan scoffed. "You don't know that, I think it's just as likely that Easter guy's kid. Did you see how upset he was?"

"Yeah, like you wouldn't be upset if someone told you I was abducted and nearly raped by a serial killer?" Elle rolled her eyes.

"Alright, you have a point there. But we still don't know who got her pregnant, and it isn't our business."

"Damn it, Derek. Think about it. She was covering the pregnancy up, clearly stressed about it, even conflicted, and she's spent months in bed with a terrorist. And…and…"

"And…what?"

Elle shook her head and threw her hands up. "She told me the baby's father is not a good man. Does that sound like an Interpol agent to you, or a terrorist?"

Morgan opened his mouth, only to abruptly close it. "Okay, let's go."

They walked together back to the conference room, where they left Gideon and Hotch having it out with their new Interpol friends. There was some disagreement about how to proceed, now that Doyle had abducted their victim. Hotch and Gideon thought they could protect her better, considering she was under Interpol protection when she was snatched by their killer. That hit a nerve with the two Interpol agents, who clearly felt some guilt about it.

All things considered it was a fairly civilized argument, not even that loud, though it still had Reid trying to melt into his seat, and Garcia cringing behind her laptop. Elle heard Morgan sigh seconds before he put two fingers against his mouth and blew a shrill whistle through the room.

It was instantly silent.

"Yes, Derek?" Gideon asked, his tone soft, a contrast to the harsher one he was leveling at the Interpol agents.

"Uh, I think Greenway and I can settle this issue."

"How's that?" McAllister asked.

"You need to pull your agent out. Now," she said.

Easter adopted a smug look. "And why's that?"

Morgan answered. "She's compromised."

"How?"

"She's pregnant. Doyle is the father." Elle hated herself for spewing that secret, but it had to be done. They needed to know it, so they'd end the assignment and get a conflicted UC out of the field.

Easter smirked. "And what led you to this conclusion?"

Morgan crossed his thick arms over his chest. "Well the OB going into her room for a consult was a first hint, then there was her doctor telling us, and oh yeah, she confirmed that she was pregnant."

Easter's smugness dissolved, and Elle took far more satisfaction in that than she had any right to. Sean's expression didn't change, except that maybe he looked a little pissed. "Doesn't mean the kid is Doyle's."

"I don't see many other options," Morgan said, then shrugged. "Unless it's Easter's."

McAllister turned a glare toward his colleague. "Please tell me you haven't been having it off with Emily."

Clyde glared back. "I have not." He turned to Morgan. "What the hell would made you suggest me?"

"You care about her, and you're one of few people who'd have access to her while she's undercover."

"Well, I'm not the only one." Easter crossed his arms.

McAllister actually smirked. "It's not Jeremy, he doesn't have the balls."

Easter nodded. "I suppose he is a bit intimidated by her."

"And if it isn't yours," Elle nodded to McAllister, who shook his head, shooting her a glare at the suggestion, "it's Doyle's."

"Well, this is a bloody mess, isn't it?" Easter turned to his colleague.

"If Emily wanted out, she'd have contacted us."

"You can't let her make that decision, not now." Elle shook her head vehemently.

Easter pursed his lips. "Just because she's pregnant doesn't mean she doesn't have any brains anymore, Agent Greenway."

"Yes, I realize that, but she told me some things that lead me to believe that her judgment about this assignment has been compromised. You need to take that decision out of her hands, and pull her out."

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me in confidence, so I won't repeat it. You're just going to have to trust me."

"Elle?" Hotch spoke, almost startling her.

"She needs to be pulled out, Hotch."

The man stared at her for several minutes, eyes focused on hers, studying her. Then he turned to the Interpol agents. "I suggest you extract your agent."

"That isn't goin' to be easy," McAllister said looked at Easter.

"Doyle will be protecting her like a mother bear with her cub," he said.

A loud buzzing distracted everyone. Elle turned to see JJ snatch her phone from the table, and click a button. She sighed and looked up. "Eric Keeling was just found beaten to death and dumped in Virginia. Arlington PD is there right now."

"Keeling?" McAllister asked.

"Our serial killer," Gideon said. "They give you an address, JJ?" She nodded, and he turned back to the Interpol agents. "You're welcome to join us, Agents."

* * *

_So, no Emily in this one, but this is the only chapter without her in it. Also, I wrote this with Sean leading the team, because before "Lauren" they said he led the team. It also worked better that way for this story. _

_Thank you again to everyone who's been reviewing and favoriting, and thank you all for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the updating delay on this one, but updating will be a off this month, because I'm taking a licensing exam in a couple weeks. Thank you all for reading, reviewing and thank you in advance for sticking with this story this month. _

_Quick warning, the beginning of this chapter is a little graphic._

* * *

"Jesus, this wasn't just a murder," Elle said. Morgan glanced up at her, his eyes briefly leaving the mutilated body of Eric Keeling. Large swatches of black and blue covered his body, his face was barely recognizable, his jaw pried open to accommodate the organ shoved inside it, and blood, now dried, clung like dirt to his hair, hands and groin region.

Without the purplish, crescent moon-shaped birthmark on his neck, Arlington PD would have still been trying to ID Keeling.

They were on the side of a trail in Glencarlyn Park that led to a residential street that was only minutes from a highway. Late at night they could have dumped and run without causing much fuss or creating any witnesses. That didn't tell them where Keeling had been tortured and murdered, but it told them that the person who did it was smart and organized. In Morgan's experience, torture and organized usually added up to a psychopath. He surveyed the area briefly, glanced down at the body, and looked back up to search again until he found his target.

"JJ," Morgan called to the blonde. She turned from the detective she was speaking with, and walked over to them. "Your contact didn't mention the torture?"

She glanced at the dead man, and cringed, a hand going to her mouth. "No. God, what is all that?"

"Burns, electrical I think. A lot of bruising too. Cut off his fingers and toes one by one it looks like."

"Is that what's in his mouth?" She asked.

"Look south, JJ," Elle said.

The blonde's eyes traveled down Keeling's body. "Oh, shit…"

In addition to the other abuse, the man's penis had been cut-off and jammed down his throat. His testicles were also missing. Morgan preferred not to think about what had become of them.

"Locals said there was torture?" Gideon appeared, Hotch and the two Interpol agents beside him. They'd gone first to make nice with the locals and explain their interest.

Morgan nodded. "Beating, electrical burns, and perimortem mutilation." He paused. "The unsub cut off his fingers…and his dick."

Any other men would cringe, maybe even flinch. Gideon looked fascinated while the other three just looked blank.

"That says it's personal. Removing his penis removes the weapon he used against his victims," Gideon said, now completely focused on the body.

"Look at the hands," Hotch nodded toward the blood-caked stubs, where ragged ends sat where fingers used to be.

"The unsub removed that weapon as well," Gideon leaned closer, "and he didn't use a sharp weapon…or a lot of care."

"Maximum pain," Morgan agreed.

"So, what? We're thinking this was done by the family member of one of his victims?"  
Elle shook her head. "This would take someone with previous antisocial tendencies."

"At least. Probably psychopathy," Gideon added.

"They would need connections to law enforcement to get his name," Hotch said. When they'd put out the BOLO, they didn't say what the man was wanted for, only that he was wanted for serious violent offenses.

"Hate to point out the obvious, Agents, but I think we all know who did this," Easter said.

"Does this look like anything you've seen from him before?" Morgan said.

"Aye. He's favored electrical burns over the years." McAllister sighed and pulled out his phone.

"The penis bit is new though," Easter added.

Hotch turned to the Interpol agent. "Do you have his location now?"

"Of course. We are very diligent in our surveillance, Emily's life might depend on it."

"It almost did two days ago," Morgan said. Easter said nothing, but looked toward the ground.

"Alright, we need to get a warrant for that address, and an arrest warrant for Ian Doyle." Hotch turned to the Interpol agents. "He's committed a murder on U.S. soil, that makes him ours."

"Yes, he's murdered a serial killer. Only bit of community service the man's ever done," Easter said. He turned to his colleague, who was silent as he eyed them. "Sean?"

McAllister's eyes slid toward his companion's. "This does give us a way in, to get Emily out unharmed and with her cover intact."

"And blow all the work we've put into this? All the work _Emily_ has put into this? She'd cut our peckers off, as sure as Doyle sliced off this man's." He gestured absently toward the body with a hand.

The Scotsman rolled his eyes at his colleague and waved him to relax. Clearly, McAllister was not about to give in. He looked at them. "Though I value the opportunity to extract my operative, Doyle was and is ours. This man has information that could and will lead us to others in his business. To his contacts and their contacts. You arrest him, and you give him to us. We can make him talk, your charge can help with that."

"You want us to arrest him, and then just hand a him over to Interpol?" Morgan asked, glancing at Hotch and Gideon.

"We have been workin' on this for almost two years. Emily's been with this man for over a year. This is our case, you lot fell into it out of dumb luck," McAllister said.

Gideon inhaled. "We need to get Lauren – Emily rather, out of there first and foremost. Everything else can wait until after that."

Hotch nodded. "We'll arrest Doyle. Once we have him in custody, you tell us what you have, if your evidence is strong, we'll hand him over."

"No." Easter shook his head. "That isn't acceptable."

"Your partner is in danger man, you don't have much to bargain with." Morgan looked over his sunglasses at the other man.

Easter turned to him, body so tense Morgan had a vision of him erupting like an overfilled balloon. "You don't understand. He won't stop if you people try to put him in an American prison. He'll operate behind your walls, arrange deals and murders like you or I do dinner plans. And part of his continuing work will be ripping apart whatever story we weave to cover her tracks. He will break out of your prison, and he will hunt her down like animal. And when he finds her, and I assure you that he wouldn't stop until he did, he will destroy her." He paused. "Do you understand now, Agent?"

Morgan stared the other man in the eyes, and for just an instant, Easter let his guard down. It was calculated, a move only someone trained in intelligence work could have pulled off. And Morgan understood. There are things far worse then death. He did not need to look at the broken body at their feet to know that he would not want Elle or Reid or JJ or any of the others at the mercy or even in the crosshairs of an angry and vengeful Ian Doyle.

McAllister cleared his throat. "We get Doyle. You take him into custody, but then he's ours. He'll be locked up and never seen the light of day again."

"You have enough on him to put him away for good?" Gideon asked.

"Enough and then some."

"Hotch." Gideon nodded him to one side, signaling the unit chief for a private talk.

Elle, JJ and Reid had spread around to examine the rest of the scene, and McAllister walked over toward one of the detectives involved in the investigation. Morgan continued to observe the other Interpol agent. "We'll get her out, Easter."

The other man's focus had returned to the body, and he spoke without removing his eyes from it. "She was very anxious about going under on Doyle," he paused, walking around the body, "She had good reason. Several agencies had put people under to try and get to Doyle, and most of them disappeared and were never heard from again."

"And the ones that didn't disappear?"

"Were barely recognizable as human, let alone as themselves."

Easter didn't flinch or tense. He gave nothing away as he circled the brutalized corpse, periodically pausing and crouching to study something. Morgan crossed his arms. "So, why did you put her under?"

"Because there is no one better, and because I trust her under more than anyone than I've worked with, and Sean does as well." Easter suddenly stopped and finally, he looked at Morgan. "And because I knew she'd trust me to have her back, and I promised her no one would harm her."

He was saved from having to respond by Gideon and Hotch returning. Easter turned off whatever guilt he was feeling and faced the two men like their previous conversation hadn't happened. "Agents?"

"In the interest of your team's safety, we'll let you take custody of Doyle after we arrest him," Hotch said. Morgan knew Hotch was thinking of their team, and what he'd do to protect them. He knew there was very little Hotch _wouldn't_ do to assure their safety. And vice versa. They all took care of each other.

Morgan met Easter's eyes, and offered a silent nod of understanding. Emily Prentiss would be safely removed from her assigned, Morgan would personally see to that.

* * *

Emily rolled over with a yawn, and pulled the sheet tighter around her nude body at the sound of someone at the door. She looked over and smiled at the sight of Declan glancing cautiously around the door jam. Around noon, when Declan took his nap, she and Ian and had retreated to their bed and made love. She hadn't been apprehensive, though perhaps a little insecure. She had wanted to be with him again, to try and erase the memories of the man who abducted her. As evil as he was, as long as her cover was intact, she was safe with him. She felt loved with him.

"Lauren?"

"Hi sweetie, can you go wait for me downstairs?" She asked.

He nodded, shot her a smile and hurried off. Emily stretched, allowing the sheet to fall, and then started collecting her clothing from the floor. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, and spritzed on some perfume so she didn't greet the boy smelling of sex.

When he saw her walk into the living room, he dove off the sofa and ran toward her. Declan wrapped himself around her legs, and then took her hand and pulled her to the sofa. Beside him was the pile of books she'd bought and given to him only that morning.

Declan looked up at her eagerly. "Can we read them?"

Emily smiled. "Of course. Why don't you pick one out, while I go get some tea started?"

When his focus went to the books, Emily walked to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water, and put it on the stove. When she reached up in the cabinet for a mug a feeling of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the counter and shut her eyes, willing the world to slow down and right itself. When she opened them again, Louise was beside her, a concerned look etched into the crevices of her face.

"I'm fine," Emily said.

Louise nodded. "I imagine so, but you've had a rough couple of days, Lauren. Perhaps you and the little one need a bit more rest before you're up and about."

She frowned at the statement, her chest suddenly tightening. "Why does Declan need rest? Did something happen?"

The housekeeper rested a calming hand on her forearm. "I wasn't talking about Declan. He's fine, though he was quite upset when you didn't come home."

"If not Declan, then what…" Emily froze at the knowing look in Louise's eyes, her mouth slowly opened, but no words came out.

"I know the signs, dear. Saw the same ones in Declan's mother."

"Oh god, Louise, you can't tell Ian. Not yet, please." Emily gripped the counter with white knuckles, her heart throbbing through her head, and felt all her control over her own life slipping away.

"I won't, but you ought to tell him, Lauren. And if you don't want that baby, you need to get rid of it before Ian finds out about it." The older woman rested a hand on Emily's arm, and the fear in her eyes made Emily's blood run cold.

"Louise? What aren't you saying?"

Louise looked away, but not for long. "Declan's mum didn't want him. Ian made her have him anyway. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Emily swallowed. "Is she dead?"

The housekeeper smiled. "No, she had Declan, and then Ian allowed her to leave. Haven't heard from her since."

"She's never called or written even once to check on Declan?" Louise shook her head. "How could she not care about him at all?"

"She wasn't the mothering type. Cared about no one but herself. She and Ian, I always thought were cut from the same cloth, except she was far worse than him. And you, you try to be, but it's not in your heart, not like it is Ian's."

The kettle screamed and startled Emily. She quickly shut off the burner, and moved the kettle to another burner. Louise was already preparing the tea ball. Emily looked at her. "I'm not so different from him."

Louise scoffed as she poured the water over the tea ball. She looked up at Emily. "I know what kind of man my employer is; I've no delusions and make no excuses about him. And, you've been with him long enough that I feel I know you too. I know you love him, Lauren. I don't question that, and I won't judge it. And, I know he loves you, more than I think even he ever thought he could love someone."

"But?" Emily asked.

Louise pursed her lips. "I think you're good for Declan. I think you're good for Ian. But I don't think Ian's good for you."

She then drained the tea ball, and put the mug in Emily's hands. "I think Declan's waitin' for you."


End file.
